Hurt
by Icka M. Chif
Summary: [AU] This is going to hurt.
1. Hurt

Random-angsty-thingie-written-at-an-ungodly-hour-of-the-morning-that-deserves-a-better-title-but-oh-well.  
  
Hurt  
By Icka! M. Chif  
  
This was a bad dream. It had to be.   
  
He was going to wake up any second, panic for a few moments, then laugh it off and go back to sleep.  
  
Any second now.  
  
Any second....  
  
....  
  
He wasn't waking up.   
  
This was real.   
  
This was a nightmare, and it was real.   
  
He wasn't ever going to wake up from this.  
  
Kaito stared at the bars of the cell he was imprisoned, and for the first time, tasted despair.  
  
Millimetres, thats all he had missed by, mere millimetres. That's all it would have taken, and he would have been home by now, in bed asleep.  
  
But he had missed. His fingers had touched the bar that should have lead to freedom....  
  
And slipped.   
  
Luck was a fickle thing. Sometimes it was the barest of fractions that lead to the greatest of falls.   
  
And fallen he had. Right into the open arms of the police force waiting below.   
  
He supposed it was a mercy that he had hit his head during his fall down the side of the building and hadn't been awake for his arrest and capture.   
  
Capture and dis-masking.   
  
He had woken up in the cell, his head bandaged where he had hit it, firmly wrapped up in a straight jacket and enough cuffs and bindings for a dozen phantom thieves.  
  
And Nakamori standing on the other side of the bars, looking like a beaten dog as he held up the Kid's monocle for him to see.   
  
The words had flown out of his mouth before he could make any effort to restrain the plea. "Please don't tell Aoko."  
  
Nakamori had snorted, grim humour sliding up to cover the cloud of despair. and disappointment that surrounded him, and demanded to know why he should do a thief any favours.  
  
He hadn't been able to find a voice to respond, his eyes sliding shut as his head bowed. It wasn't something he could put into words, especially not to Nakamori, to Aoko's father. Anything he said from here on out would only hurt her, hurt them all more.   
  
Aoko would know now. Nakamori wouldn't even have to say anything, it would be all over the papers in the morning. She would know that he was the illusive shadow that her father had pursued so long, that he was Kid the Phantom Thief And she would hate him. There was no alternative. Even if by the slimmest possibility that she could care for him after hearing who he was, there was nothing either of them could do about it.  
  
The Kid now had a name behind the mask. He had no where to go now, no life to hide behind.   
  
And if he did escape, which he could, if he concentrated hard enough on what to do, Nakamori would hunt him to the ends of the earth for hurting his daughter.   
  
But he couldn't concentrate.  
  
Aoko hated him.  
  
That thought wrapped around his heart like a string of barbed wire, tearing at him with every heart beat and keeping him locked behind bars more efficiently than any chains or bars could..   
  
It was still night now... she probably was sleeping peacefully in bed, sleeping the sleep of the innocent and the just, un-aware of what morning would bring.   
  
Maybe... maybe...   
  
He had a few hours before she started hating him. Maybe there was a way to salvage this. He had done it before, he could do it again...   
  
He could deal with this. He would deal with this. She didn't hate him -yet-. If he could salvage this, he'd meet her on the way to school like always, and she'd smile at him and everything would be alright again.  
  
He just had to get out first-  
  
The doors opened, a shadow falling across the dim lights of the corridor. He glanced up, expecting Nakamori, or maybe a guard that he could impersonate...  
  
.... and met a pair of blue eyes that were as deep as an ocean, and as wild as a hurricane.   
  
Just like that, the fragile shell of hope he'd had shattered and fell, a hundred thousand crystal shards falling to the floor in a musical symphony that filled his ears and made the world spin around him.  
  
Aoko looked at him from the other side of the bars, her expression filled with a mix of emotions that he couldn't even begin to sort out.  
  
And he realized in that second that this was going to hurt more than he ever thought it could...  
  
-fin-  
  
(Voices say that Nakamori didn't tell Aoko despite his words to Kaito)  
  
Was just after 2am, had just finished talking to Becky Tailweaver for several hours, I could barely see the screen much less keep my head up, and a song started playing on the radio.  
What song was it? No clue. But it set off plot bunnies based off of a remix version of Sarah McLaughlin's 'Hold on', and *blorp!* this fell out.   
We're gonna blame it on Becky. So, thanks Becky! 


	2. Pain

Dakka frakka... Wasn't gonna write a sequel, but this hit me upside the head riding home. ~_~ Ysabet, Hauntress, this is ALL your fault.  
  
Pain  
by Icka! M. Chif  
  
It was dark. Shadows upon shadows upon shadows. Even the normal fluorescent lights seemed dim, doing nothing to brighten the corridor. It was if the entire place was in mourning, mourning the capture of something beyond this world. Something supernatural. Something that lounged in his cell as if he didn't have a care in the world.  
  
At least at first glance, to those that didn't know him.   
  
I am of the small majority that know him better than that.   
  
It was stupid, stupid luck. I have seen him make similar jumps, and greater jumps on many occasions without mishap. But this one occasion, a small pebble underfoot, a breeze shifting him the wrong way or sheer dumb luck running out on him and he missed.   
  
All he needed to do was grab the bar and pull himself up. The police wouldn't have been able to catch him once he was on the other side of the wall, either him gliding away or disappearing into the crowd like he had done on so many other occasions.   
  
Instead, he had fallen, hitting his head on the way down to earth, into the arms of the police men that broke his fall. For all the trouble that he caused them, they still risked their necks to catch him, and treated him a modicum of respect as they unmasked him and carted him away.   
  
It's been 2 weeks since then. I was in England at the time, curse my poor luck.  
  
And he's still here.   
  
He twitches an eyebrow in my direction, acknowledging my presence. "You don't seem amused." He finally comments, his voice completely neutral, devoid of any irony or amusement.  
  
"I didn't catch you." I reply, my voice as neutral as I can make it. It still falls short.   
  
"Ah." He nods, understanding. Of course. He would understand, more than the officers waiting and watching outside in the halls.  
  
There's a silence. Not merely silence, but a silence. The one that asks more than words can without ever revealing anything. And it's far from comfortable, despite our apparent attitudes.  
  
I break it, clearing my throat un-comfortably. "Aoko's pretty mad."  
  
"We tore each other up pretty well when she stopped by." He comments, icy pain escaping thru his neutral facade. An understatement if I ever heard one. It hurt them both, more than either of them are willing to admit.  
  
At least he saw it coming. Little comfort, really.  
  
"Anything memorable?"   
  
He sits up, shrugging a shoulder. "She told me to go to hell."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I asked her if she'd like fries with that."  
  
I can't help it, I snort in amusement. "Was that the Kid or Kuroba talking?" I ask.   
  
For the first time, he raises his head to look me in the face, a shielded searching look. "You know, I'm not sure." He finally admits, folding a page of the book he was reading down as he sits up. "Little bit of both, I think."  
  
He reminded me of a wounded falcon. Hurting, but still dangerous. I doubted his capture shook up nearly as much as his encounter with Aoko had.   
  
Changing the subject seems wise. I don't like seeing my friends, or rivals hurting. "I didn't think they allowed books in jail."   
  
"They don't." He's vaguely amused at my minor discomfort, but is willing to play along with our happy chappy conversation game. "You never know what a dangerous convict can dream up to do with something as innocent as a book or a staple."  
  
Him dangerous, my as- ...deerstalker. "Especially one they can't seem to keep the cuffs on."  
  
He shrugs. "Set a new record, 29 locks in under half an hour."  
  
"24 minutes, 15 seconds." I correct.  
  
He looks somewhat pleased with himself.   
  
"However, they still can't quite figure out what you're still doing here." I tilt my head. That does seem to be the big question of the moment. With his skills, he should have been able to break out of here within hours of his capture, if he so chose. He wasn't fooling anyone, really. He was here because he wanted to be, and no other reason.   
  
There'd even been some debate on if they should move him to a higher security prison instead of the cell he was currently residing at in the police station, but few were willing to risk him staging a break out during the transfer. If he seemed inclined to stay put, they weren't going to argue much.   
  
And it gave him a place to cool his heels while the debate between several countries over who would get to try him first raged.  
  
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his even messier than usual hair. "We lead such a feverish existence nowadays, it's a good thing to take a rest cure from time to time."   
  
"You've been reading Lupin." I accuse.  
  
He flashes a grin at me. "Figures you'd get that one." He walks up to the bars and holds out the book he'd been reading.   
  
I hesitate and he chuckles.  
  
"I'm not going to trade you places, thieves honour." He assures me, a slightly smug tone to his voice. I'm sure he's noticed how everyone's been sure to stay away from grabbing range, just in case. He does have a reputation for jumping officers and taking their place.  
  
"I thought thieves had no honour." I retort.  
  
"Have you ever known me to be dis-honourable?"  
  
He's got a point. I take the book.   
  
It's Arsène Lupin, written in French. I hadn't realised that he could read French. I flip thru a few pages, noting that several of the pages bear dog-eared marks, and that it is a quite well loved book. I hand it back. "Next you'll be telling me that you don't intend to attend your trial."  
  
"I'm still debating that one." He takes the book and gives me a quick salute with it. "Thanks, they took my other copy." He admits, heading back to his bunk.   
  
"Lupin got captured because of a woman." I point out.   
  
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna swear off the female gender." He admits, sounding both amused and hurt. "Except for cross dressing, of course. That comes in handy."  
  
... He would say that.  
  
"So are you planning on sticking around for your trail, or are you going to give the populace something new to chatter about?" I press.  
  
"And what is the illustrious populace saying about the not so elusive Kid now?" He asks, plopping into the bunk with a fraction of his usual careless grace.  
  
"Not much." I shrug. "Your mother's getting pissed and has taken to throwing potatoes at reporters, but is other wise alright. They've yet to find any evidence of you being the Kid at your house."  
  
"They won't." He stretches, sounding confident and almost smug for the first time. Kuroba may have been a wreck, but the force and the will that created the Kid was still in intact. He gives me a wink, a small grin forming. "How is Nakamori-kun doing? Haven't seen him down here since the first night. I keep waiting for him to start screaming at me."  
  
"He's depressed."   
  
"As are you?"  
  
"I'm annoyed."  
  
"Hmm..." He makes a thoughtful sound, not quite a sigh. "It would certainly piss off Nakamori-kun if I escaped, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Undoubtedly."  
  
He nods, clapping his hands together, looking pleased, like he's come to some sort of decision. "No."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
He grins, one of his cocky Kid grins. "I've made up my mind then. I won't be around to see my trail."  
  
That doesn't make sense. "Why not?"  
  
He shrugs. "If Arsène Lupin didn't say around for his trial, why should I?"  
  
"But he did." I point out. "They thought he was someone else and let him go."  
  
"True." He nods. "I shall have to figure out another way to do it then."  
  
He's got me all mixed up now. "You're not going to see your trial simply because you'd rather see Nakamori mad at you than depressed?"   
  
Actually, that does sound like him...  
  
"Yes and no." He rose to his feet, pacing a bit with barely suppressed energy, his indigo eyes alight with ideas. "I haven't finished the whole reason for the Kid's existence."  
  
No one's been able to quite pin point his logic for being the elusive thief. "Which would be?"  
  
He gives me a sly grin, almost calculating. "Find out why my father is dead, and you'll have your answer."  
  
I frown. It was un-like him to give away details about himself. "You're giving a way a lot of information there."  
  
He shrugs fatalistically. "If you catch them before I do, more power to you. The result is the same." He pauses by the small bathroom area, glancing in the polished metal that passed for a mirror. "'I no longer recognise myself in a glass'." He quoted. "And I've been thinking that perhaps, it should be that way."  
  
"Become Arsène Lupin himself?"  
  
"Become Kuroba Kaito." His eyes caught mine in the reflection, and I almost felt like I had been physically hit.  
  
He had 2 distinct yet separate personalities most of the time. The mischievous, almost clown-like Kaito, and the intelligent, calm, almost icy mysterious Kid. What I saw now was the depth of personality behind both of them, a mix of the two.   
  
He turned away from the mirror, breaking the contact. "The Kid's been caught. He's dead, there's nothing more he can do. Kuroba Kaito on the other hand, only a slight handful of people know." He met my gaze again, this time un-diluted by the dull metal of the mirror. "And isn't it better for you to have a goal to strive for?"  
  
The Kid was gone, I realised in that moment. He was a tool, a tool that had lived its purpose and was being discarded as such. And in it's place was something much larger, much craftier, and much more dangerous to try and grasp.  
  
Something that had Kaito's playfulness, the Kid's skills and carried a name whose ties had been cut by those around them.  
  
"You do realise that you'll never be able to go back to having a normal life, right?"  
  
"Perhaps I was never meant for one to begin with." This was said with a fatalistic air.  
  
The problem with putting someone like him in jail was that it gave them time to -think-. A truly dangerous thing indeed, for he had obviously taken the opportunity to do so.  
  
"It is all the better if people are never able to say with certainty: 'There goes Arsène Lupin'." I quoted. "The great thing is that they should say without fear of being mistaken: 'That action was performed by Arsène Lupin'. Is that what you mean?"   
  
"Exactly."   
  
I nodded, my pulse quickening with the thrill of the hunt. "Shall I become Ganimard then?"   
  
He smiled, one full of suppressed amusement. "And on Wednesday next, since I abhor smoking, shall I come and share meal with you at four o'clock?"  
  
"Kuroba Kaito, I shall expect you." A laugh escaped from my throat as I held out my hand. We shook hands like gentlemen agreeing on a deal, then I turned to leave.  
  
I paused a moment, checking to make sure I still had my pocket watch before continuing on, the merry sound of his laughter following me out.  
  
fin.  
  
For those of you un-familiar with the Lupin, he was the original Gentleman Thief, written in the early 20th century (about the same time Holmes was written) in French by Maurice Leblanc.  
  
To most of the Lupin references were from "The exploits of Arsène Lupin".   
The 'no longer recognises himself in the looking glass' line is from chapter 1, 'The arrest of Arsène Lupin'  
The rest are from chapter 2: 'Arsène Lupin in prison'.   
  
Translations can be found here:  
  
http://gaslight.mtroyal.ab.ca/lupnmenu.htm  
  
-At the end of the chapter 2, he *cough*accidentally*cough* takes Inspector Ganimard's pocket watch, which is why Hakuba double checked to make sure he still had his. ^_^  
  
Of the 2 detectives who follow Lupin, Hakuba is more like Guerchard, who always seems to have a stick up his butt. I much prefer Ganimard, who not only has a sense of humour, but is also on friendly-rival terms with Lupin. (yes my version of Hakuba has been much influenced by Ganimard.)  
  
One of my favourite Lupin lines:  
There was no doubt about it: as Ganimard had said, criminals don't warn the people whom they mean to rob. 


	3. Scab

I don't know where this came from, I was supposed to be working on something else. o_O  
  
Note: Takes place approximately one year after 'Pain'.  
  
Scab  
By Icka! M. Chif  
  
They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.  
  
Looking down the side of the building to the people milling on the side walk several stories below, it dawns on me that this is an awfully big first step.   
  
It's not just the height. Kami know that heights don't bother me, and I don't fear falling. It's just that... this is it. This is the end of my old life, and the beginning of... everything.  
  
I guess technically that's not true. The end happened a while ago, with the slightest of slips, a fall and screaming match in a jail cell. That's when the end happened. When she left.  
  
But this... this has me shaking inside like very few things ever have.   
  
The Bard once said that a man in his time will wear many masks. I just happen to wear more masks than most. Like enough for 10 people.  
  
I had thought, before the end, that I was Kuroba Kaito, masquerading as the Kaitou Kid. Since then I've wondered. I was -born- to be the Kid. The tricks, the heists, the riddles, it all comes so easily. It's harder to be myself.   
  
It could be that I'm still fooling myself. Instead of Kuroba Kaito wearing the mask of the Kid, that I've just traded one mask for another, the Kid masquerading as Kuroba Kaito.   
  
Or it could be what I was seeking when I talked to Hakuba. A blending of the two, with all the flaws, strengths and weaknesses therein. Becoming myself for the first time ever by hiding in plain sight. Stopping the masquerade even as it picks up for other people.  
  
I think Dad would have a fit if he knew I had changed the rules. Mom says that she's proud of me. I think she's nuts. Why anyone would be proud that their son is on the International Most Wanted List, I don't know. Not that I'd say it to her face, even if I ever got a chance to see her. She's got a really mean throwing arm when she's angry.   
  
Of course, she's the one that married Dad even after finding out what his night job was. That doesn't exactly say much about her mental sanity in the first place. Still love her lots though.  
  
The wind changes, blowing my now longer hair into my face. It's slightly too short to tie back, but just long enough to be a pain in the butt and get into everything. I haven't had the time to get it cut since my escape, nor has it exactly been a high priority. It makes it a bit harder to hide under a wig, but I've been told that it suits me. I've also been told it makes me look like a girl. Which works well for me.   
  
The cops aren't looking for a girl.   
  
Heh.  
  
All joviality aside, I think... it's time.  
  
On my back is an experiment, the genius of myself and several people who have never met, nor is it likely they will ever meet. Most won't even know they helped.   
  
Dad had the right idea with a glider in a cape. It's unexpected, it's dramatic and by golly it works. The downside is that it's a bit on the bulky side, having to deal with a mess of metal strapped to your back which is a pain when you're trying to use all the agility in your body to dodge, say, bullets and hordes of policemen. And you can't actually fly; more like toss yourself at the winds and pray that they're feeling merciful tonight.  
  
But these... Oh, I like these. Still a little on bulky side, but nothing too bad. More subtle than a cape, so I can wear them on the street without catching attention.   
  
And best of all, I can fly. Actually fly. Where ever I want to go.  
  
The network is in place, information passing through it at a rate that I wouldn't have believed possible. Spies, informants, places to crash for the night... it's amazing. I couldn't have done it without Jii's help; the friends he's made over the years have been invaluable.   
  
I'm proud to say that I'm funding most of it on my own too. Those little tricks and toys I came up with based off of some of Dad's old plans make the most wonderful children's toys. Something tells me that Nakamori-kun wouldn't find that gizmo on his desk quite so amusing if he knew who created it.  
  
A giddy sensation builds from the bottom of my gut, and I tilt my head back and laugh, letting all my fears and doubts leave with it.   
  
There is a time and a place for remembering the lessons of the past. What I was I can never return to, that much is certain.  
  
And right now, this, this is for the future.   
  
I have a heist to get to.  
  
No more doubts or hesitation, I step off the edge of the building, leaping into the emptiness below my feet. The wind rushes up to greet me, and for the slightest of moments, there's brief flicker of fear that it won't work like it's supposed to and they'll be scraping me off the street for weeks to come.   
  
Then there's a familiar rustle as my wings snap out and catch the wind. There's a cheer and I realize I'm letting out a rebel yell loud enough to wake the dead as I soar higher into the night sky.  
  
First step... taken.  
  
Fin.  
  
Called 'Scab' because sometimes thinking of the past is like a scab. Feels good to pick at, but it doesn't help it heal. 


	4. Scar

Feeling a bit like an idiot... We finished this series probably about six months ago and never updated it here. Sorry 'bout that.

Scar  
By Icka! M. Chif

"Have you ever heard of the phrase 'Counting Crows', Nakamori-kun?" Though the voice of the speaker was soft, it still startled him. His footsteps should have been soundless, and his intended audience hadn't seen him to his knowledge. "One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth. Five for silver, six for gold, and seven for a secret that's never been told."

"Can't say as I have." He said neutrally, stopping where he was to observe the other man. It was hard to tell if it was him after all, a darken shadow perched on the edge of a city lit night sky.

"It's supposedly for fortune telling, counting the crows in a field. There's other versions of it, of course." The darkly clad man shifted still not looking at him while bits of ornamentation and a long black vest, like a trench coat with the arms cut off, stirred and shifted in the slight breeze. "One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy. Five and six are the same, but seven is for a secret never to be told. The two phrases can be mixed up and used how ever the speaker wishes, but the intent is still the same. Count the crows and see the future."

Nakamori wondered if it as possible for the darkly clad man to actually peer into the future. It seemed like it frequently. He cleared his throat to cover up the nervousness that he felt and spoke gruffly. "Hakuba-kun sends his regards, he's unable to make it tonight."

"I know." The man turned his face so that Nakamori could see it in profile and smiled briefly before looking out again at the night kissed city below. Lights shined and gleamed while the headlamps of cars moved like molten rivers under their gaze. "I was the one who set his broken leg. Really, with as dense as he is, you'd think it'd be impossible for him to break a limb."

The words were meant jovially, but there was a bitter pang of regret under it.

"It was his own stupidity. He doesn't blame you for it." He was rather startled to find that he was attempting to console the other man. They were opponents after all.

"I know."

"You still blame yourself, don't you?"

"Of course." The dark man turned, and for the first time in five years, Nakamori got to see the face of the man whom at one time he had considered as close as a son.

Kuroba Kaito.

Formally known as the Phantom Kaitou Kid, or the International Thief 1412.

The last time he had seen him, the boy, now an adult, had just woken up behind bars. And yet his first word and only words to any sort of officer or detective until Hakuba Saguru appeared weren't for his release or about his capture, but a simple heartfelt plea for him not to tell his daughter.

He'd watch the video of the thief's conversation with the then young detective when he had started to speak again. It had alarmed many people, and amused some. Security had been increased on the floor around the cell after that.

But true to his word, the next Wednesday, a little bit before four in the afternoon, Kuroba disappeared for two hours from his cell. Not walked out, not left, but simply disappeared. They had checked the tapes and the security cameras for tampering, but none was found. The thief had simply vanished, leaving nothing but a ruckus behind him.

Only to then walk up to the front desk with a take out bag for a restaurant across town and request to be let back into his cell. Evidently it was easier getting -out- than it was getting back -in-.

And then two weeks later, he simply vanished again. Kuroba had straighten the cell up, making the bed and tidying what he could, then washed his hands and face, combed his hair and fixing his clothes, much like a teenager on a date would do. He then turned, bowed to the cameras, including the hidden ones he shouldn't have known were there, then simply opened the door to his cell and walked out.

Disappearing into thin air. As he had reached the door, there had been a small poof of smoke and the thief was gone, one step into the hallway. No one could explain it.

Once the disturbance that caused died down, everything had been quiet for a few months. Then the rumours started. Of someone gathering information.

A LOT of information.

Someone was collecting and building networks. Not just from hackers and the standard lowlifes that people got information from, but a variety of normal law abiding citizens too. Someone that people wouldn't talk about directly, not from fear, but out of trust and loyalty. Loyalty that was -earned-. Then the rumours started to trickle in from other parts of the world too. And slowly, the head of this network began to gain nicknames.

Some made no sense.

Batman. The Shadow. The Phantom.

Some that began to make too much sense.

Fallen Angel. Black Feather.

Kuroba Kaito.

And then the first note appeared.

It was done in the classic Kaitou Kid style, with several small differences that spoke volumes. Instead of a white card with black lettering, this was a black card with silver ink. And in the corner, instead of a caricature of the grinning Kid's hat and monocle, there was a stylised sketch of a single feather.

And after all his cursing for the Kid to make sense with his notes, it did. Sort of. It was a request for a large piece of jewellery to be sent to an address by a certain time. The jewellery would be returned the day after, with an offer for the postage to be paid back.

The man who had brought it in was incised, furious beyond belief that someone would make such an insane request and demanding the police's involvement.

For nothing. Much like the Kid had disappeared out of his cell, the jewellery vanished before their eyes, by an unseen hand.

And in its place was a single black feather. A primary wing feather from a large crow or a chushin.

The uproar this caused was nothing compared to the uproar that the jewel's return caused. As the note had said, the jewellery was returned the next day, in a brown paper wrapped box sent postage due, professionally cleaned and a note appraising it's value.

The second note appeared less than a week later, in a different part of the world. This was followed by a third and a fourth in separate parts of the world.

And the reputation began to spread.

The name 'Kuroba Kaito' when from being Kid the Phantom Thief's alter ego, to taking on a life of its own.

One that far surpassed the original legacy.

Nakamori, as the person with the most experience chasing the thief, had continued as his position as the head of the Kaitou Kid Task Force, renamed the Kaitou Kuroba Task Force. Hakuba grown into his right hand, becoming Ganimard to Kuroba's Lupin. Rumour on the wind had it that the higher ups were grooming the London bred Japanese boy into Nakamori's replacement, for when he retired or took a less active role.

And to be honest, the travel and the chase was beginning to wear on him.

It appeared to have the opposite effect on Kuroba, the thief was taller, leaner and more muscled, holding himself like blade honed sharp by use. The thief's face had changed, gotten narrower as his hair had gotten longer. It was difficult to tell if this was Kuroba's real face, the face that lay underneath all the masks. He was a master of disguise.

The eyes, the eyes though. Even with the monocle, topped with a black feather now instead of a charm, the eyes were unmistakeable with the force of personality that he had fought with for over twenty-five years. Years had been both rough and kind.

He privately wished that not so many of them had been so separate. From either his old friend, Toichi, or Toichi's son.

"How long have you and Hakuba been having these meetings anyway?" He grumbled, changing the subject.

A chuckle answered him. "The first one is documented." Kuroba grinned at him. "I've been meeting him for dinner whenever schedules would allow, usually a every few months or so. Trading news and other important trivialities."

"Tonight's the first I've heard about it." He grumbled, irritated at the younger blond and the thief. Hakuba had explained, in a voice slurred from painkillers that he had a meeting between himself and the thief and requested if Nakamori could go in his stead, to make his apologies. Hakuba had also commented that he thought it would be a good idea for them to talk.

"It is rarely planned in advance. It began by chance and it seemed fortuitous to continue in the same fashion. Many times he doesn't even know it is me. Although you might want to ask him about the cocktail party in Paris last year, he's still trying to figure out how I fit into that slinky little red number..." There was a definite smugness around the dark haired man.

Kuroba in a cocktail dress was not a mental picture he required. "You do know that Hakuba and my daughter are seriously dating, correct?" He doubted such information would be missed by the thief's informants, but sometimes it was better safe than sorry.

"Actually..." The thief looked vaguely amused "Saguru asked me for permission before asking her out."

"He did WHAT!"

Kuroba nodded. "Before he asked you, from what I understand. Please don't kill him for it."

Nakamori growled. The cheek of that boy...

Although, it did make a certain amount of sense. He was Aoko's father. He -could- say no, put his foot down and knowing his daughter, it wouldn't do a bit of good. On the other hand, Kuroba was the internationally wanted criminal. If Kuroba had objected, Hakuba might very well never be found again. Or be found in lots of little pieces.

"Did you know that they're thinking about getting married?" Kuroba added, a not so hidden smile in his tone.

"They- What! NO! grrrrrrrrrr..." He ground his teeth into this cigar and glowered at the thief. He hadn't thought it was -that- serious.

"He tentatively asked if me to be his best man, but, uh, I kind of had to turn him down." Kuroba smiled at him, a bit of embarrassment colouring the tone, but there was an undercurrent there that snapped him out of his anger, making him pause. Kuroba appeared to catch himself and turned away, resuming looking at the building he'd been staring at earlier.

"Kaito-kun..." Nakamori sighed. "How are you doing? Truthfully."

Kuroba looked up, but not at him. "I'm alright. Really."

"Kaito-kun."

This earned him a look. "No, I really am alright. I think I was born for this life. It's just... sometimes... memories."

The reminders of what he had lost. For a moment, Nakamori wondered if Kuroba was masochistic, to actively seek out these reminders.

Or perhaps this was a touchstone, to remind him of why he did this now, so he didn't forget.

"Anything I can pass long?" He asked, masking his concern gruffly.

Kuroba looked thoughtful for a minute. "If... I asked you to tell Aoko that I still loved her, would it hurt her?"

Nakamori debated it over for several moments. He could lie and spare his feelings, but he got a feeling that it would only hurt the thief. "Most likely." He finally admitted gruffly.

The Thief nodded, his face looking older than the inspectors own. "Then can you give her a different message for me?"

"Would you tell her that I hate her too?"

"Sure." He studied the man in front of him again. "Are you sure?"

To his surprise, Kuroba grinned. "Well, they say that the existence of an extreme emotion usually means that there's another extreme emotion behind it. And you only hurt the ones you love, right?"

Nakamori nodded. Even he had to admit that his daughter probably wouldn't hate the thief with such a vengeance if she didn't love him so much to begin with. "Right."

"Thank you."

The soft hush of wings startled him, but Kuroba reached a hand out, as if expecting their visitor. A large black bird, settled on his outstretched arm, claws digging into the black bracers that masked the thief's forearms. That explained some of the strangeness of the outfit. The bird crmukashied, shifting its feet as it turned a sparkling eye at him.

"I'm afraid this is my cue to say good night." Kuroba apologised. He then grinned, a wide grin of amusement. "Although it's legitimate work tonight, testing security systems. Pays a fair deal, and it's always entertaining to have permission to break and enter into someone's place."

Nakamori snorted in amusement. "So much fun it ought to be illegal?"

"Exactly." The grin faded to a more sombre look. "It was good to see you again, Nakamori-keibu." The unladen hand was extended towards him.

Nakamori grinned, closing the gap between them and clasping Kuroba's hand with a firm grip. He was glad he had taken Hakuba up on the strange offer, even if it was technically illegal. "It was good seeing you too, Kaito-kun. Take care of yourself."

"You too." Kuroba smiled at him, a lopsided expression that flickered with emotion. Regret, pride, fondness, acceptance. "I'll be seeing you. Even if you don't see me."

With one last wave, Kuroba let go of his hand and leapt off the building into the night sky, the bird launching off his arm at the same time. In the blur of black against grey, Nakamori swore he saw the outline of a familiar hang glider extend from the long vest the younger man was wearing, slowing the decent.

Then Kuroba passed over a molten street filled with light and he realised that it wasn't a hang glider, but a pair of huge wings, shaped like a bats, or the dragons of myth, sprouting from Kuroba's back and carrying him aloft. Then this too changed, the points of the wings fracturing and splitting off into smaller sections.

Nakamori stood on the rooftop and watched until Kuroba was out of sight, soaring in the night sky on name sake... feathered black wings.

fin-


	5. Heal

Heal  
By Icka! M. Chif

She should have been asleep hours go, instead of dazing in that haze of not-awake with a jumble of mixed up emotions swirling around inside her. Sleep was going to become a precious commodity, or so everyone said, with the new arrival.

Her senses were stretched out, fine tuned and on edge with the newness and un-certainty of her new situation, caught the light soft footsteps even though she was more than half way asleep. She was tired from her ordeal, but on some level, she didn't recognise them. They weren't her husband's, nor her father's and the latest addition to their family shouldn't be out and around, which meant that it was a stranger.

She turned slightly, towards the sound, peering tiredly thru her eyelashes. The first thing she saw in the dim light of pre-dawn was a riot of colour on the bed stand next to her bed. Red, yellow, white, pink, blue, purple all intermingled with splashes of dark forest green. Next to the unfamiliar swash of colour was a contrasting shadow, the pale curve of an arm, a black void of dark clothing. Looking up a bit, she met twilight coloured eyes, wide and vibrant in an expression that reminded her of a deer caught in the headlights of an on-coming semi-truck.

"I'm sorry." The voice was soft, yet heart breaking familiar and for a moment she thought she was still dreaming. "I just wanted to congratulate you. You need your rest. Go back-"

Her guest moved backwards a fraction, to leave and disappear and she launched herself at him, ignoring the protests of her battered body. Her hands met fabric and she grabbed hold, wrapping the material around her fingers, on some basic level afraid that if she didn't hold on he was going to vanish again and leave and she couldn't stand that again-

And she was babbling, a whole torrent of words spilling out in no order that made no sense but they made sense and she had waited so -long- to tell him and she had to tell him before he vanished like a ghost and he just HAD to know- "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't hate you, I was so mad and young and stupid and I didn't mean what I said back there, I don't hate you, I'm sorry, please don't go, don't vanish again, I miss you so much and I'm so sorry-"

She was crying as she was babbling, a whole outpouring of emotion that she couldn't stop and didn't want to stop even when she realised that she was shaking and crying and he was shaking too and he had wrapped his arms around her as well and he hadn't vanished he was still -right here-, carefully rubbing her back and murmuring soothing nonsense words like she was a small child again but that was okay because she wasn't making any sense either and he hadn't left, she hadn't left and it had been so long since she had seen her best friend...

Eventually the outpouring stopped, leaving her feeling drained, but not as drained as she had been this morning. It was more of an emotional kind of drained than a physical one, kind of like puncturing a festering wound and letting all the pus and blood and gross things out so that maybe it would have a chance to heal. She tilted her head up a bit, looking at her friend again.

He had changed so much since she had last seen him. His face was older now, more mature. His eyes were wiser now too. There was still the maniac mischievous twinkle in them, but now it was tempered with wisdom and experience. And he was also a lot bigger than he had used to be, he'd finally had that growth spurt, filling out his lanky frame with more muscle. Not too much, he was still on the slim, sleek side and probably always would be.

"Better?" He asked gently, raising a hand to wipe the tears that were still running down her cheeks. She nodded, hiccupping. She probably looked a wreck, but somehow lacked the ability to be embarrassed about it.

"I'm sorry." She whispered again. She had been so angry, so very angry. It had taken such a long time before she got used to the fact that yes, he was a thief, and no, he wasn't coming back. The reflex to turn to him, talk to him never faded and the anger had eventually faded, replaced by a sense of loss. She missed him more than anything else.

"I know. Me too." He gave her a huge, strong, yet still careful, mindful of her body's sore state. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear."

She nodded, her cheek pressed against his torso as she wrapped her arms around him to hug him back. "You want fries with that?" She asked, hiccuping in mid-tease.

He froze, tensing up and she giggled. He started to chuckle, his breath tickling the hairs on her head and they both started to laugh, holding on to each other for support. Another outpouring of emotion, strengthening an old bond of friendship.

The laughter finally died down and she gave him another squeeze. "Would you like to see him?"

He looked un-comfortable, shifting his weight a bit. "I... did." He confessed, turning a bit red. "I was one of the nurses in your room."

She laughed. For some reason, that was re-assuring, the fact that he had been there when she had needed his presence, even if she hadn't know he was there. "You didn't hold him, did you?"

"No."

"Then come on." She released him long enough to grab his hand and tug him out of the room. "Anata isn't here right now-"

"He went to pick up your father from one of the pubs." He supplied helpfully. "You may not want to call your Dad in the morning, he's going to have one heck of a hangover."

"You were the one that called us to pick him up?" An eyebrow raised. He certainly got around, didn't he? But then he always had.

"Yeah." He looked embarrassed. "I... like keep track of all of you. Even if you don't see me."

She smiled, comforted by the fact that he still cared about them enough to worry about them. "Come on." she gave him another shy tug, drawing him into a small room.

It was dark in this room as well, and still smelled faintly of fresh paint but she made her way to the bedside easily. She reached let go of him to reach down and pluck the small warm body from its cocoon of blankets and handed it to her friend.

He looked a bit awkward, but held the small body with a skill that belayed the fact that he'd held infants before. She couldn't help but to smile as he studied the small face, looking completely entranced. Less than a day old, the newborn already had everyone wrapped around his finger with out even batting an eye. The babe in his arms yawned, but wasn't disturbed by the strange person. "He'll get your eyes." He smiled, his voice soft and awed. "What did name him?"

"Um..." She blushed, remembering the dissusions over what the newborns name would be. "I hope you don't mind. But his name is Toichi. Hakuba Toichi."

"Toichi..." He had the deer in the headlights look again, but this time it was surprise in his wide eyes instead of fear. She bit back a smile, the fact that not many people probably had the opportunity to surprise him like this crossing her mind. "My... you named him after my father?"

"Your mother liked the idea." She shrugged, feeling a bit nervous.

He beamed at her, one of those wide grins that stretched from ear to ear that she hadn't seen in over 7 years that sent a warm feeling straight down to her toes. "Thank you."

She smiled back. "You're welcome."

He turned back to the baby, running a finger along her son's soft cheek. "Hello, Toichi. Nice to meet you."

"And I hope this isn't the last time you meet him." She informed him pointedly. "Anata was going to ask you when he saw you next, but we'd like you to be his Godfather."

"Me?" The word came out as a surprised squeak and she grinned as he started babbling, one hand flapping in the air in an attempt to illustrate what he was talking about as the other still carefully held the infant. "But.. but... I'm a thief, you know, breaking laws, on the run all the time, amoral, going against the cops and all that-"

"And you would care for him better than anyone else we know, should anything happen." She interjected. "Saguru thought of it, and after Dad stopped laughing he liked the idea too."

He looked dryly amused at that. "He did, huh?" He snorted, a small grin growing across his face. "Well, then I guess I'm out voted, aren't I?"

"Exactly." She put her hands on her hips, grinning stubbornly back.

He chuckled, turning back to the babe in his arms. "Then I guess some different introductions are in order, little one. Hello, To-chan. I'm your crazy Uncle Kaito. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Toichi yawned, waving his arms a bit, then went right back to sleep, causing them both to laugh quietly. Kaito smiled again, a soft gentle smile, then handed him back to her. "Here you go, back to your mama."

She took her son back, wrapping him up in the blankets again and setting him back in the crib. "Um..." He shifted next to her, looking nervous. "When he gets older... if he's interested, can I teach him magic?" He asked hesitantly. "None of the thieving stuff, just... magic?"

She chuckled, stepping back from the crib. "Both Anata and Dad want him to become a detective. Says it's in the blood."

"Ah, but he's got my father's name." He grinned, tossing a casual arm around her shoulders in a loose hug. "Do you think the world is ready for a Magic Detective?"

"Probably not." She Agreed amiably. It certainly hadn't been ready for a Magic Thief, but the world had certainly survived. She laughed. "Uncle Kaito, huh?"

He grinned proudly, evidently liking the sound of it. "Yeah."

She wrapped an arm around his waist, allowing him to escort her back to her bedroom. He'd have to be from her side of the family, Saguru's was too formal for anyone as insane as they both were.

"Welcome to the family."

fin-

Anata 'Darling'. What a wife will sometimes call her Husband

End of the series folks. Thanks for reading!


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